Unmentionable
by The Original Gamer
Summary: It isn't to say Matt isn't a man without dirt or kinks, as it were , but this, he feels, is pushing it a little too far. MelMatt Rated M for SEXUAL CONTENT. Matt happens to see something he...probably shouldn't have, and he's become a little too curious.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** So...basically I'm here to provide you with more porn.  
Except this isn't porn.  
This is like the prelude to porn.  
Figured you guys were sick of my mega long porns, and so this is divided into chapters.  
And by that I mean there's this chapter and the next one will probably be super long.  
...I just have to talk myself into writing it for real, heh.

_Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note or any of the characters mentioned in this story._

* * *

It isn't to say Matt isn't a man without dirt (or kinks, as it were) but this, he feels, is pushing it a little too far.

The apartment is quiet which, he might add, is pretty frigging weird. Like he's just breached Twilight Zone levels, and that's Grade A weirdness right there. Even with Mello not around to keep the silence at bay with his tantrum like fits of screeching and generally loud disposition, Matt is usually allowing the notes of some videogame theme to have a mini rave off the walls of the flat, if not some other music Mello never lets him blare.

Come to think of it, some James Bond-esque tunage would have been pretty sweet right about now...Everyone knows sneaking about is infinitely cooler, not to mention easier, with theme music.

Speaking of sneaking about...

The door creaks open with only a small push (well, and a deft picking of locks) and he feels a strange mixture of disappointment and relief when there isn't a sudden appearance of lasers barring his way into Mello's room. It ruins the sense of adventure, but at least he isn't at risk of being cut to bits. His socked feet hardly make a noise as he steps into the room, and even though he knows he's alone in the apartment, he feels the pressing need to keep up with the quiet. Mello, after all, moves with the deadly grace and astounding silence of a panther. Or, at least, he somehow renders everyone in the immediate area deaf to his movements. That really would explain a lot. At least, it wouldn't surprise Matt, at this point. Only, he can't afford for it to be true right now, because if his friend slash panther slash possible magician slash mafioso found him...

Well, needless to say Matt likes his junk where it is. Even if it would be a choice addition to the phallic museum in Reykjavík.

About a meter into the room, his feet sink into something distinctly plush. A glance down tells him that it's a rug, very plush indeed, that happens to have been pulled straight out of some 70's porno. He snorts. "Real classy, Mel." Now is not the time, however, to critique Mello's competency in the art of interior design. His homosexuality was becoming way too excited lately.

Of course, he had Mello to blame for that.

A quick scan of the room confirms that any image he may have conjured of Mello's room is far enough off that it has no hope of finding the truth. There are no torture devices or guns lying around, although there are plenty of skulls and he's pretty sure that's a safe tucked into the corner over there. But there's also a huge bookshelf, packed to the extent that Matt would swear he could hear the shelves crying out for relief. There's an understandable amount of religious paraphernalia too, considering Mello's views, and it's a tad unnerving for him so he kind of ignores it. Anyway, his goal isn't to learn about the rich culture and delve into the meaning behind the art of the Catholics, and he needs to make his way across the impossibly neat room without disturbing anything as it is. Although, it would be interesting to see what Mello keeps in the drawers of his bedside table (gotta be sex toys, Mello is _The _dominatrix, sans the vag) or under the bed (those torture devices?) or on his bookshelf (either erotica or some sort of anthology devoted to the life of a crazy fuck). But no. The object of his snooping is the closet.

Unsurprisingly, he finds a lock on the closet door that, at a glance, is a bit more complicated than the one to Mello's room. If anything, this only confirms the suspicion that his best mate is hiding something from him.

He makes a point to ignore the twitch in his pants at the thought.

Complicated or not, he makes quick work of the lock. There's not so much of a scratch on the burnished brass and seriously he's probably the progeny of motherfucking Houdini and some sexy female locksmith. He's graced with the strong smell of leather and gun powder as the door swings open and the sap in him kind of wants to bask in the scent of Mello a moment. But he's on a mission, and he's already been distracted enough.

He pushes aside the rack of leather to reveal a dresser just the right size to hide neatly in the closet. Because that wasn't another sign that Mello was hiding something, nope. The weight of the first drawer as he tugs it open surprises him, and he lets out a softly grunted swear. He doesn't even need to look to know he hasn't found what he's going for, but curiosity has always lorded over Matt's mind and he can't resist a peek.

The drawer's contents has to be equal to the annual gun sales of one of those testosterone oozing sporting goods stores named after a fish and filled with dead animals. And that doesn't even include the accessories and ammo. If he had any doubts on the matter before, they are definitely quenched now- Mello undoubtedly has a gun fetish.

Though...perhaps he doesn't have any room to talk when it came to fetishes.

No, no! It isn't a fetish, of course not. It's...an interest, that's all. An interest skipping down the path of curiosity hand in hand with a coincidental sexual response. Hardly breaching fetish territory!

He carefully shuts the drawer, making sure not to disturb anything within. Surely Mello would notice if one of the precious objects of his misplaced sexual desires was suddenly askew.

Impatient now, not to mention wary of Mello's imminent return, he skips over the second and third drawers. Seeing as the first drawer had been filled with guns, he has little faith that the other drawers are filled with anything of interest. The last drawer though, where statistically speaking no one would think to look, should prove to hold what he's currently after.

He's initially disappointed when he opens the drawer to reveal row after row of black cotton sweats and boxers. But then his mind decides to get its ass in gear again and promptly reminds him that no one with any sense would hide something out in the open, even if out in the open meant the bottom drawer of a dresser locked in a closet locked in a room that belonged to a crazy son of a bitch. With renewed determination, he digs passed the uninteresting clothing items until, instead of teh warm scratch of cotton, his fingers meet something cool.

Jackpot.

* * *

Anyone want to guess what it is? ;]


	2. Chapter 2

**AN:** This was supposed to come quicker, but I had a bit of trouble writing it! Hopefully it turned out okay, lasjfas.  
Surprisingly, it didn't turn out as long as I thought. A think a story around 3, 500 is sort of short for me, these days! Aha.  
When I was writing this, I literally had the thought 'this is so anime'. But then I remembered I was writing about anime characters. orz  
Anyway, _none _of you managed to guess! I'm surprised, I thought I made it pretty obvious.

* * *

Slim fingers lock around the cool fabric, a little shiver stealing up his spine at the blatant contrast to the warm, scratchy cotton at his wrists. He hesitates to pull the item completely out as an anxious feeling settles into his gut. This is the real deal, not a misplaced fantasy or a glimpse over the hem of Mello's pants. He is actualy holding the object of his interest skipping hand in hand with a coincidental physical response, etc. etc. This is a thing that is happening.

...Or, you know, maybe not.

The feel of icy metal parting his hair and biting into his scalp has Matt's entire body freezing. The safety clicks off and for a moment he sort of genuinely fears for his life.

His hands raise automatically, his prize, unfortunately, goes with them. Funny- he'd never imagined when he'd die, he would be waving a pair of black satin panties as a flag of surrender. And he imagined some pretty strange things.

Mello growls, which would have been sexy if not for the fact that it was definitely a threatening growl and not the sexual kind. "What do you think you're doing, Jeevas?"

It takes perhaps a beat too long for Matt to realize that, not only does he have a pair of panties in his hand but he has got a woody pressing against the zipper of his baggy jeans. Not one of those half ones a guy can get away with, but the full, raging boner.

Damn, maybe that growl of Mello's was sexy after all. And he could definitely live with the idea of Mello's gun fetish over the idea that Mello has the gun out to repaint his walls with his blood and brain matter.

Restless fingers twitch, and as they do so does his cock in his pants. The feeling of cool satin, raised here and there by lacy patterns across the fabric, is better than he'd ever (possibly!) imagined it to be. Mello's gun digs a little bit more into his skull, almost hard enough to cause pain. "Well?" Oh, right. He was supposed to be speaking, wasn't he? But what was he supposed to say? _Hey, bro. I caught a glimpse of your knickers when you bent down the other day. So, I snuck into your room, broke into your closet and dug through your drawers because I wanted to make sure I wasn't seeing shit. Nice gun collection, by the way, although Freud would probably think you were creating a phallic wonderland with 'em._

Well. They did say honesty was the best policy.

Pfffffffft. Like that would blow over well. His blood would be staining Mello's porno rug before he could get through the first syllable of knickers.

"I, ah. My gun," Did Mello even give him again? Matt is pretty sure he had. "was jammed." That better be a legitimate thing. "So I came in here looking for something to fix it." Alright, that was weak. Even for him. He was good at everything else under the sun, why couldn't he be a _decent _liar as well? Was that too much to ask for?

The gun has to be breaking skin at this point, if not bone, it was pressed so hard into his skull. "You were looking for something to fix a 'jam' in your 'gun' in my _underwear _drawer." It isn't a question, it's an incredulous statement of fact. A disbelieving one. But he saw that coming the moment the words left his mouth. Mello, after all, is a genius. And also innocent little girls could have smelled his lie for miles around.

"I-" Before he can say something else stupid and reeking of terribly attempted deception, Matt bites down on his lower lip. Honesty is always the best policy, right? Right. He can do this! He thinks. Maybe.

It's a little awkward, because he's got his back to Mello and he's half bent over, but he think he manages quite nicely. The gun his knocked out of Mello's hand with Whammy's-bred reflexes (looks like all those terrible fitness exercises were paying off) before his own hand comes to rest on the back of his neck, pulling him in for a sloppy kiss.

It isn't like in the movies. There isn't a pause where they stare at each other with wide eyes, flushed faces and wet, swollen lips. Neither of them pull away, blushing vibrantly and stuttering tsundre like excuses. There is a bit of clumsy nose mashing and clacking of teeth and tearing of sensitive lip skin, but somehow it works. There's no _need _to stop and talk about it. They've reached a point of mutual understanding.

Also, Matt is pretty sure Bonerville just got a new visitor.

His hands come to rest on Mello's hips, shapely in the masculine way as they were, and grip. This hold steers Mello back so he's stuck between the dresser and his tongue. Not that he seems to be complaining, and for that Matt is grateful. Homolust for ones best bro is hard enough to deal with without having to handle the fact that it's not only unrequited but has to be rejected in order to prove so.

The underwear has long since fallen from his hand, and Matt is reminded abruptly of the loss when Mello's hips suddenly grind into his. He shares a private smirk with himself as his fingers slip below the hem of his best friend's tight jeans, catching the telltale coolness of what is definitely not a pair of boxers. A low moan rises in his throat and, yep, there is that coincidental physical response. Painful physical response. He doesn't remember his jeans being this tight. The fabric underneath his fingers is smooth and thin and he figures it must not have the same lacy patterns as the one he had grasped before. Somehow this isn't a disappointment- it suits Mello more.

It's only a few moments before simply touching isn't nearly enough for Matt. Between the teasing glimpse of red silk he caught a few days ago (the first time he'd ever seen veritable evidence that Mello did not, as he had thought for so long, go commando, skintight trouser choices or not) and actually holding a pair of Mello-worn (he assumed) intimates in his hand, he was more than ready to indulge his...interest.

His legs decide now is about the time to stop speculating over this indulging this non-fetish and start acting upon it. He finds himself on his knees, face level with Mello's crotch. Though his whole body feels jittery with excitement, deft fingers manage to work the button to Mello's pants easily. The blonde is slouching against the dresser at this point, watching him with lidded eyes and a smirk. The zipper goes down before the smirk fades and Mello's hand shoots out to grasp at Matt's thin wrist, holding it with a bruising force. "No, wait a minute. I-"

Matt works his wrist out of Mello's grip easily, brushing his hand aside with a cheeky grin. "Dude, I know. Try not wearing low cut pants with these babies, huh?" He hooks his finger in the hem of the undergarment (dear _Lord, _they're cherry red and almost sheer so he can _see _Mello's cock straining through them and it's like his friend put them on, just for him) and lets it snap back, his lips still tugging upwards at one corner.

His actions receive a smack upside the head, but even this cannot ruin his pleasure over how flushed Mello looks. He, Matt practically-autistic Jeevas brought that flush to Mello's face and he's pretty damn proud of himself for it. Spindly fingers slip into his hair after the smack and he finds a humming purr rising in his throat in response. He thinks Mello says something ("Jeevas, you are the single weirdest man I have ever had the inexplicable pleasure to know.") but he isn't really focused on this. Practiced hands yank down Mello's pants to around his knees, and he can't be damned to take them off the rest of the way. Plus, with his jeans around his knees, there's no chance for Mello to escape his grasp. His terribly horny grasp.

His mouth is on Mello's dick before either of them can really realize what he's doing. His tongue sweeps from hilt to tip, through the sheer red fabric of the panties, and a near simultaneous shudder goes through the both of them. The fabric tugs just slightly at his tongue and masks some of the salty taste of Mello's skin while somehow improving it. He repeats the action again, backwards this time, and now he's got both of Mello's hands scrabbling at his scalp. A finger will get caught here and there and tug his hair in a way that isn't entirely comfortable, but Matt could give no fucks less. Not a single one.

His hands, again, fall to Mello's hips, and, again, they push him back against the dresser. This time they hold him there, thumbs stroking the jut of the bone on each side as his lips wrap around the tip of his cock. It's pushing past the hem of the panties, but only slightly. He can feel the fabric against his lower lip and the underside of his tongue while he works it over Mello's head. Bitter pre-come drips into his mouth, and while it tastes pretty much awful, he's not about to quit his task.

He's found the panties, after all, so it's time for a new mission. And that mission? To make Mello hit _l__a petite mort, _in a majorly mind-blowing fashion.

He thinks he's doing a pretty bang up job so far, if the way Mello's teeth are digging into his lower lip and his nails are scraping at his scalp are any indication. He hums, partially in pleasure and partially to heighten Mello's. It seems to do the trick, as he suddenly finds himself with a bit more cock wedged into his mouth by an upwards thrust of Mello's hips. The panties are now punched slightly at his chin, and the urge to really feel them again takes over. His fingers leave their perch, exploring the fabric, warm in comparison to the other pair he had held just minutes ago.

His mouth leaves Mello's dick as well, much to his friend's displeasure if the yank of his hair is any indication. Little does he know that Matt is nowhere near done and he releases a low moan as his lips brush wetly over the balls straining against the red fabric. A tongue darts out, flicking over it. The taste of sweat and salt is stronger here, as well as the smell of musk, but Matt can live with that. It's Mello, after all.

His tongue has thoroughly wet the fabric in that particular area before he moves on again. He flattens his tongue for another sweep along the admittedly sizable length of Mello's cock. Mello appears to be pretty close to melting into an oversexed puddle of chocolaty goop and, with his mouth conveniently sucking on a portion of Mello's dick through the slowly dampening fabric, he can't help a snicker. The vibrations cause Mello to release another low, rumbling moan that sends any blood left in Matt's brain immediately south.

He doesn't even care that he's twenty three and as such past the years that he can be considered a pathetically horny teenager who, out of embarrassment, rubs himself through his little tidy whities. His free hand drops to his crotch and he rubs himself like that horny teenager, except he's in jeans and boxers instead of tidy whities which makes the whole thing a little difficult. But it lessens the pressure in his pants and that's all he can be damned to care about with Mello a slowly melting mess above him.

Make that an exploding mess. A trailing of fingers over heavy balls combined with a hearty make out session with Mello's cock through his panties equals a powerful orgasm. Mello grits his teeth around a cry, fingers digging into Matt's scalp with more force than ever before. It's the combo of this and the look on his best bro's face and the feel of warm fabric under his fingers that has Matt climaxing within seconds of Mello, hips canting into thin air as he does.

They sit there for a good while, Matt's forehead resting against Mello's hip as thin fingers run through his hair with surprising tenderness. He's not sure how long they sit there, but the mess in his pants has grown increasingly uncomfortable by the time Mello speaks. "So...a panty fetish, huh?"

"Coming from the guy who willingly wears panties." Matt responds, feeling himself flush. After all of that, he's just now getting embarrassed. Matt logic rates pretty high on the scale of suckage. Or would that be low? Oh...well, now is not the time to contemplate how the scale of suck functions. "How anime of you, Mello."

A snort. "I'm not even going to ask."

"You really shouldn't." Matt finds himself laughing breathlessly, even though it really wasn't that funny and he's pretty much a huge dork. Matt's stupid mouth:3423425232 . Matt: 0. "I'm not that coherent right now.

Mello smirks and without warning hauls Matt to his feet by the collar of his shirt. He finds his lips suddenly occupied by a pair of hungry, chocolate laced ones and his knees sort of wobble...a lot. Wow, can Mello kiss. His head is starting to spin in a worrying way before Mello pulls away, smirk wider than even before. "Better get coherent, then, Jeevas. I want you fully functioning for your punishment."

"Punishment?" Shit. That comes out as more of a squeak than he intended. An excited squeak. Though he's just relieved himself, his cock perks up with interest. He supposes he can't fairly blame it.

"You didn't happen to see what was in all my dresser drawers, did you?"

"Er, no."

"Good."

Matt's shoved against the dresser, passionate lips on his own again and he thinks he'd rather like to skip a bit further up the pass of curiosity.

* * *

**P.S:** I just ruined all your headcanons of Mello going commando under his leather.  
**P.P.S:** You lot should be happy to know I'm 5,000 words into the sequel to Must Love Cars!


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **It's been a while...again. I've been busy. Real life isn't exactly a walk in the park.  
But anyway, there wasn't going to be another part to this but...I wanted an excuse to write some more smut, so here you go. This is the third out of four chapters, and the fourth chapter is on the way! As in, written and waiting to be edited so I can post it. c:

* * *

About an hour has passed since Mello found Matt rummaging through his things, and he can't help admiring his handiwork since then.

He always thought Matt's mouth would be put to better use if it were full of cock, but a ball gag is the next best thing. His pretty lips are wrapped wide around the toy, nearly as red as the rubber sphere itself and still slightly swollen from earlier kissing. There's a bit of drool gathering on his chin, but there's no hope of wiping it off. Not with his hands bound behind his back with a pair of handcuffs. Not the fuzzy sort, either. The real deal, and they've already chaffed at Matt's wrists if the sight of reddened skin is any indication. He's on his knees, which Mello would always argue is a place that suits him well, with a bar between his legs to keep them spread. His very much reddened erection juts out all too obviously, kept that way by a leather ring around the base.

Mello can _just _hear the vibrator buzzing away inside of him.

Slightly damp hair swishes down and tickles his cheeks as he bends down to eye level with his friend. In the time that had elapsed, he'd managed to shower, trading his soiled clothes for fresh ones. Though he knew it would have driven Matt crazy, he had forgone the underwear in favor of a pair of loose sweats- it wasn't about Matt this time, after all. In contrast, Matt was bare as the day he was born, making the trembling and straining of his muscles and the flush across his skin quite obvious. Mello can only smirk, reaching to trail his fingers along the angular line of Matt's jaw and up over the contrasting softness of his cheek. "How are we holding up, Jeevas?"

Green eyes narrow in a glare, the expression exposed by his lack of goggles (also thanks to Mello). He can practically _see_ the snarky retort in his gaze. _Oh, just peachy, thanks for the concern._ It's almost enough for him to want to remove the gag, to hear Matt's unguarded sarcasm and crazy rambling. It's as much part of him as anything else, and in that moment Mello wants everything.

He remembers, though, that he's supposed to be punishing Matt. And it just won't do to show him even the smallest of kindnesses. He straightens again, his hand falling from Matt's face. The smirk is still in place and he turns sharply on a heel to pace over to his drawer. It's stuffed with toys of all sorts, and it would take Mello all day to sort through them. He's not really looking for anything in particular, though. He speaks as he searches. "What to do with you, is the question. Normally a good ass kicking would do you some good, but I feel this particular instance calls for a special brand of punishment." Matt makes a sound like a snort, and Mello lazily inclines his head in the other's direction, a brow arched. "Don't scoff at me, you little shit. There was a reason my bedroom was locked, and an invasion of my privacy is a serious fucking offense. You're lucky I don't tear you a new one."

For someone bound and at his mercy, Matt seems a little too nonchalant. His eyes hold Mello's and, even darkened with lust as they are, his gaze remains unwavering. A flush marks his cheeks, but even so Mello knows he would be smirking, if not for the gag wedged between his lips. He doesn't so much as twitch, not a single squirm, though the vibrator must be making that stillness difficult to achieve. Mello's almost proud of Matt's stoic response, except for the fact that it's rapidly becoming a frustration more than anything else. What happened to the Matt of just an hour ago? Who had so readily dropped to his knees and voraciously attacked his cock?

The answer is like a slap to the face. Matt is being defiant.

And this is far from acceptable.

Mello abandons the veritable treasure chest of toys to stride back over where Matt is kneeling. The sight has his erection straining against the soft cotton of his sweats, but it goes ignored. He's got a plan, now, and it doesn't include his own pleasure. Not in the technical sense, anyway. Rather, he sinks to the floor before Matt in a crouch, his hand reaching for the flushed arousal jutting out between spread legs. His fingers go first to undo the leather strap at the base of his hardened cock, undoing it in one smooth motion. It drops to the ground, forgotten, as Mello's attentions shift to the neglected organ itself. He thinks he catches a hint of confusion in Matt's bright gaze, but it's gone in an instant, replaced by a bored look. A look that screamed, "What now?".

"You want to play it off like this is nothing?" Long fingers wrap firmly around the cock which twitches in response, though Matt himself remains impassive. His grip tightens just a little more, and he gives a firm pump. "Fine. We'll just have to force out the slut in you, now won't we?" Confusion briefly tugs at Matt's brow once more, but his eyes quickly darken again as Mello begins to pump his hand in a steady rhythm.

The vibrator must have been working better than Matt had let on, because he comes within a few strokes. Unfortunately, a cant of his hips and a splatter of semen across his stomach and Mello's hand are the only indication it happened at all. Matt remains nonchalant, not a noise, and stares at Mello with a steady, clear-eyed gaze.

Mello tries not to let this frustrate him. After all, they've only just begun.


End file.
